


The "Me" Costume

by violent_ends



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dress Up, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Handcuffs, Improvised Sex Toys, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Denial, Post-Season/Series 04, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 05:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: [the premise is that after the S4 finale, Lucifer is back somehow and is in a relationship with Chloe]While going through one of Lucifer's drawers, Chloe finds the "me" costume Eve left behind by accident. She decides she can dress up for the Devil as well, and punish him for not tidying up as he should have.





	The "Me" Costume

The offending garment dangles from Chloe's fingers as she stares at the two pieces of what she can only define as a leafy bikini, made of some fake and plasticky material. She was trying to make space in one of Lucifer’s drawers to put her clothes in for tomorrow, since she is sleeping at the penthouse tonight, when she found it tucked in a corner. Once she picked it up, it didn't take long for her mind to catch up and realize who wore it, and most importantly why: for _him_ to take it off.

Chloe should let it go. Eve is Lucifer’s past while she is his present, and hopefully future, too. Plus it’s a very stupid, trivial detail to focus on: she should just stuff it back in and pretend she never saw it. For some reason, though, she can’t.

She steps out of Lucifer’s bedroom to stop at the top of the stairs that lead to the main area of the apartment. Lucifer is playing the piano without much heart in it, almost absentmindedly, changing tune every few minutes to take another puff of the marijuana joint that is sitting in an ashtray on top of the instrument. It’s not something Chloe partakes in, but she has to admit she likes how Lucifer is when he’s that tiny bit high: giddy, almost childish in his wonder, his imposing personality slightly smoother at the edges.

Chloe mentally slaps herself for almost forgetting what she was about to say, captivated by the enthralling sight that is the Devil, _her_ Devil, gloriously barechested in front of her.

"What is this?” she finally says, dangling that... _thing_... with her arm outstretched so he can see it clearly. She has both pieces in one hand now, the other hand resting on her hip in a threatening pose.

"What, dear?” Lucifer asks lazily as he takes another long puff, only then turning on the bench to look at her. He coughs loudly the moment he sees it, beating on his chest with his fist until his breath goes back to normal. Chloe raises an eyebrow. _This will be amusing._

"This" she emphasizes, shaking the bikini in the air. Lucifer blinks several times, his gaze shifting from the costume to Chloe’s face then back at the damn thing.

"It’s, uhm... well, a guest must have left it here after one of my sex parties” he explains, slowly gaining confidence as if he's trying to convince himself of it. “Ugh, I swear, some of those girls were so careless.”

"What was the theme, surviving in the wild?” Chloe shoots back, cocking her hip to the side. “I thought the Devil never lied.”

Lucifer’s eyes grow wide: he knows he’s been caught, but of course he’ll try to talk his way out of it with his infuriatingly perfect accent and voice and face. _My name is Lucifer Morningstar, I can play the piano and I'm a fancy British man_, indeed.

"True, true, but in my defense-" he starts to say, but has to stop when the bikini Chloe just decided to throw at him unceremoniously lands on his face. The garment slips down in his lap, from where he pushes it off and on the floor like it’s burning him. “In my defense, Detective, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or in this case, _extremely_ pissed off.”

Chloe does that thing where she raises one eyebrow while simultaneously closing the other eye, for which Lucifer usually mocks her, but he knows better than teasing her this time.

"Just- get rid of it, will you?” she bites back in defeat, throwing her hands in the air before storming back inside the bedroom.

When she hears the scraping sound of the piano bench moving against the floor, she knows Lucifer is following her, and she also knows he'll make up for it until she forgives him for keeping it – with his lips and tongue and fingers and thrusts, pleasuring her for hours and hours until her frown will turn into a satisfied smile of pure bliss.

And yet, as Lucifer’s arms wrap around her from behind and his mouth attacks her neck in a heated apology, in the back of her mind Chloe still wonders how to make him pay.

*

Chloe feels sexy but still a tiny bit ridiculous as she waits for the elevator to reach its destination, the heel of her shoe tapping lightly against the floor. This isn’t something she usually does, but it’s only one of the many aspects of her life that changed since Lucifer. _Because_ of Lucifer. He made her life more exciting and adventurous and way crazier, to be honest, so really, what she’s doing shouldn’t be that shocking after all.

She told him she has a surprise for him, so she knows Lucifer is waiting for her inside the penthouse. Chloe’s intention is still punishment and payback, but she can’t help but feel delighted at the prospect of surprising him: it’s not something that happens often, especially in bed, because Lucifer has tried all there is to try and then some. Just thinking about some of the things he’s done and has let others do to him – things he still has no shame in telling everyone at the precinct over a box of donuts – makes Chloe blush sometimes.

When the elevator dings open, she finds Lucifer on one of his sofas, staring at the sun setting outside with a half-full glass in hand, impeccably dressed as always.

"Unless you came up here completely naked, Detective, I can already tell you I won’t feel particularly surprised" he intones with a smugness that is his and his alone, before turning around to actually look at her.

The way his mouth slowly falls open is so, so rewarding to Chloe: it’s almost impossible to shut him up, ever. Lucifer takes in the sight of her, his eyes exploring her barely-dressed body from head to toe. She is wearing one of those cheap sexy policewoman costumes, bought online before diligently clearing her computer’s search history for fear of Trixie sniffing around. The hat frames her loose hair perfectly – she keeps it in a bun on the job, but she figured a sexy cop wouldn’t care about being practical – and the light blue shirt stops right under her breasts, leaving the skin of her stomach exposed. The outfit also includes a dark blue miniskirt with a plastic baton attached to one side of the belt and a pair of fake cuffs to the other, which she replaced with her real ones.

If Eve can dress up as herself and turn Lucifer on, so can she.

"Detective!” Lucifer finally says, leaving his glass on the table in front of him to stand up and walk toward her. He stops to admire her attire from up close, his hands on his hips as if he’s judging whether he wants to buy it or something. “It’s- it’s a _you_ costume! I'm impressed!”

Of course he won’t make the connection with what happened a few days ago, oblivious as ever to what is right in front of his nose, so he steps closer to tug at the hem of Chloe’s skirt with a wolfish grin on his face, ready to pounce. Chloe bats his hand away and takes the pair of handcuffs from her hip, offering it to him.

"You’re under arrest, Mr. Morningstar" she says, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips – God, how do people do this and stay serious? “I suggest you cooperate.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he stares at the handcuffs for a moment, before his eyes light up with barely contained excitement.

"Oooh, roleplaying!” he exclaims, almost clapping his hands together like a child who has been granted unlimited slices of pie, then clears his throat. “Okay, fine, on with it. What am I under arrest for, officer?”

He just used the wrong title on purpose and Chloe knows it: if there’s one thing Lucifer can’t help is calling her _Detective_ an unhealthy amount of times per day. He’s teasing her, but she won’t fall for it.

"It’s Detective Decker" she clarifies in a stern voice, without losing her composure. “And your crime is keeping a forbidden piece of clothing in your residence. One that might have... offended... someone’s sensibility. There has been a complaint, but of course the witness has to stay anonymous.”

"Of course" Lucifer repeats, understanding finally dawning on him. He reaches out to take the handcuffs from her grasp and put them on, but Chloe suddenly realizes there will be an impediment to her plans.

"Wait. Take your clothes off first. Only the underwear stays on.”

"My my, Detective, I thought you’d never ask.”

Stripping almost naked in front of someone who is fully clothed (albeit scantily, in this case) has never been a problem to Lucifer, obviously: Chloe thinks it’s only his love for tailor-made suits that keeps him from walking around completely naked all the time. He doesn’t break eye contact with her as he removes his jacket and shirt, smirking when Chloe’s gaze inevitably lingers on his muscular chest and arms. She’ll bind them together pretty soon, and even though Lucifer could break the cuffs with a snap of his wrists, she knows he won’t.

Shoes, socks and pants are next, and they’re good to go.

"Don’t get distracted, you’re on duty" Lucifer quips as he finally puts the handcuffs around his own wrists, which prompts Chloe into taking the lead before he sidetracks this whole idea with his Luciferness. She grabs the cuffs from the chain in the middle and drags him all the way into the bedroom – well, Lucifer _lets_ her, but let’s not focus too much on specifics.

Chloe pulls him along behind her until they both walk around the bed, then sits on the edge of the mattress, takes off her shoes and crosses her legs.

"On your knees" she instructs, and the Devil eagerly complies, graciously falling on his knees in front of her. Oh, what a sight he is: no longer taller than her, no longer towering over her slim frame, Satan himself reduced to a mortal at her mercy.

"Now, I could put you away for a long, long time, Mr. Morningstar" Chloe continues, stretching backwards a bit to plant her palms on the bed. “That is, unless you can convince me that you deserve leniency. I was told you’re a _very_ resourceful man.”

A wicked, knowing grin spreads across Lucifer’s face: he’s good at this, of course, because he’s good at everything he does. Chloe will have to work hard to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Oh, bribes are my specialty" he boasts, the muscles of his arms flexing deliciously as he sits back on his heels. “Name your price and it’s yours, Detective.”

Chloe uncrosses her legs and leans forward until their noses are touching. With one hand, she grabs Lucifer’s jaw in a tight grip, his rough stubble pricking at her fingers. Lucifer’s eyes are fixed on hers, waiting for whatever she will tell him – no, _command_ him to do – and the thought is dangerously exhilarating.

"Your mouth on me,” Chloe replies, capturing Lucifer’s lips in a deep but quick kiss that leaves him breathless and wanting more, “for however... long... I please.”

It’s only when she leans back on the bed, spreads her legs and pulls her skirt up, revealing that she’s wearing nothing underneath, that Lucifer truly gets what she means. Chloe will never stop loving the way his pupils go wide and black with desire at the sight of her sex, or the way he licks his lips in hunger and anticipation. He shifts ever so slightly on his knees, trying to mask that he’s getting hard already, but the twitch of one of his hands rubbing quickly against the front of his boxers gives him away.

"Ah, ah, ah" Chloe reprimands him, gesturing at his joined hands. “You’re already getting your freedom out of the deal. You can’t touch yourself, and you can’t come.”

It would be too easy on him otherwise: Lucifer loves to pleasure her with his mouth so much that sometimes, despite his superhuman stamina, he comes just from that and a little help from his hand, but Chloe won’t let him this time. This is about _her_. He will have to squirm and plead and beg her for his own release, and if and when Chloe will feel that he’s forgiven, she’ll allow it.

Of course, Eve's costume was just the spark to her anger: the problem wasn’t finding it, per se. But seeing it reminded Chloe of Lucifer’s ex; of the way he would hoist her in his lap and kiss her in front of everyone, in front of Chloe herself, long and deep and with his hands roaming all over her back; of the way he would revel in her laughter as he made her chair rotate around and around at the precinct - _It’s fun, isn't it, sugar plum?_ \- as Chloe pretended to work at her desk. Of the way he had her in his bed, _this_ bed, her shiny, dark, perfect hair spreading out on the sheets under her round doe-eyed face.

It was Chloe’s fault, back then, because she hurt him and betrayed him; but that didn’t make her any less jealous at the time and it certainly doesn’t now.

Lucifer groans in frustration at her order, locking the fingers of his hands together to stop himself. He moves forward on his knees and settles between Chloe’s spread legs as she lies down, keeping her skirt up with her hands so she can see him. Watching Lucifer eat her out is almost as sinful and intoxicating as the act itself: there is no shame in the way he locks eyes with her before diving in, no restraint when he closes them and places an open-mouthed kiss to her core the same way he would to her lips.

"_Oh_, Lucifer" Chloe can’t help but sigh, even though praising him like this, worshipping his name instead of sticking to the formal _Mr. Morningstar_, is a reward she shouldn’t be giving him so easily, a reward he should earn. But he is her Lucifer, and his kisses are soft and reverent and sweet at first, and despite the purpose of all this Chloe can’t truly be mad at him.

They moan at the same time as his tongue really gets to work, licking upwards slowly and deliberately to stop for a moment at the top of her folds and suck. If he stays there for too long this will be over too soon, and he knows it, the tease. For the time being though, Chloe lets him. She wants to drag it out for herself and for him, too; she wants him to go mad. She hastily unbuttons her shirt and leaves it hanging open before lying back down, one hand coming up to pinch her own nipple as the other keeps the skirt from falling on Lucifer’s head.

Her moans grow higher in pitch at the double sensation, and Lucifer notices immediately: his eyes shoot up and a desperate groan escapes his lips at the sight. If his hands were free, they would be all over Chloe already, so she knows it’s torture for him to have them bound together as he watches her do what _he_ should be doing, spreading her legs apart with his hands before trailing them up her body to cup her breasts possessively.

"_Chloe_" he croaks, pulling away and panting against her thigh. He wants to touch her and Chloe won’t give him that either, because it’s something she can do herself, but only Lucifer can make her fall apart with his mouth.

"It’s _Detective_” she corrects him, stifling a frustrated moan as she pulses at the loss of his lips, because she is allowed to break character if she wants, but he is not until she says so.

"Did I say you could stop?” she asks him then, feeling slightly guilty when a flash of hurt lights up Lucifer's dark eyes. It’s gone quickly though, replaced by a familiar glint of mischief: the thrill of a challenge, one the Devil can’t resist. He smirks and leans forward again, this time sucking intently where Chloe needs it the most, a jolt so sudden that she cries out in surprise.

Chloe’s hand leaves her breast to move down to his head and grab a handful of his hair, messing it up in the best possible way. She holds him in place as hard as she can, her hips rocking up and down against his face now, essentially _using_ him to get off and it’s dirty and maybe unfair but when his tongue pushes inside Chloe throws her reservation out the window. He always knows what she needs and when and Chloe loves him and hates him for it, hates herself for not giving him what _he_ needed, letting another take the place that should have been hers from the start, from the moment they met, but they wasted time and in that time Lucifer fucked countless men and women with that same tongue – and there it goes, she’s jealous again.

She can feel Lucifer’s pained moans almost from within as he licks inside, and sense the way his hips are desperately rocking up into nothing, looking for friction he won’t find. Chloe loses all sense of time and space as she grinds her hips against his lips, her nails digging into Lucifer’s scalp to anchor herself: the whole world is reduced to what he’s doing, to the pleasure Chloe is demanding and taking from him because he is hers and no one else’s now, and she is the only one who can have him on his knees and in any other way she desires – not Eve, not Candy, not Jana. Chloe. Chloe Decker. _Detective_ Chloe Decker.

"Come on, almost- almost there" she moans as the tension inside starts to build at an unbearable pace, almost painfully so. She needs more but she can’t bring herself to ask him, can’t swallow her pride and tell him to touch her after she denied it to him before.

But Lucifer doesn’t need her to, and Chloe feels a surge of love for him at the way he silently pushes two of his long fingers inside her next to his tongue, the other cuffed hand hanging awkwardly under the one he is using to make her come. At exactly the right moment, on the edge of the precipice, he is there to make her fall and then catch her, and so she falls. She falls for an amount of time that seems endless and Lucifer licks her and fingers her through it, mindless of his own pleasure, until Chloe releases the painful grip she has on his hair and relaxes on the mattress, her legs trembling on either side of his head.

Lucifer looks positively wild, when she peers down at him: his hair is mussed, his eyes desperate, his breathing rugged, and his arms visibily strain in the opposite direction from each other as the Devil barely stops himself from breaking the handcuffs in half. He wants to come, badly, and Chloe almost takes pity on him; almost tells him to climb on the bed and rut against her leg as he bites into the side of her neck, or climb higher still until she can take him in her mouth, or just push himself inside the heat that will make him plunge down into oblivion.

But then, she reminds herself she wanted for this whole thing to last way longer, so she straightens down her skirt and takes the hat that fell somewhere on the bed behind her to put it back on top of her head. Lucifer makes a soft, low whimper as her legs slide away from his face, when Chloe scoots up the bed until she is sitting against the headboard. She spreads her legs again so that he can see her, truly see her, from where he's kneeling at the foot of the bed like some kind of slave.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Morningstar?” Chloe asks him, the fingers of one of her hands skimming lightly along the inside of her own thigh. “Is there something you want?”

"You" Lucifer replies, lightning-quick, before the line of his jaw hardens and his mouth seems to struggle with whatever word is coming next. “_Please_.”

Chloe wouldn’t be able to hide her satisfaction even if she tried, an amused little chuckle escaping her lips. Because Lucifer generally is the perfect British gentleman around people, all flattery and courteous pleasantries, but he still acts like a king in his bed – the king he still is and always will be, a ruler with no kingdom but royalty nonetheless, conscious of being the most beautiful of all the angels of God. Chloe knows he’s never _needed_ to beg anyone for anything: not his demons, afraid of his mere presence, and neither his lovers, too spellbound by his celestial beauty to ever deny him anything.

And it is a struggle, even for her, because it’s inside her that he belongs; it’s to eventually land in her arms that he fell. But she soldiers on and musters all the resolve she has, unclasping the small, grey plastic baton still attached to one side of her skirt.

"You mean, like this?” she teases him mercilessly, reaching down to rub the smaller side of it lightly against her sex, where the phantom press of his lips still lingers and burns.

Lucifer’s face scrunches up in frustration at the realization that this isn’t over, his mouth going slack as he watches the point of the object almost breaching the entrance he desperately needs to be buried in. His body seems to move of its own accord, climbing on the bed on all fours until Lucifer is lying down on his stomach, propped up on his elbows with his face leaning against Chloe’s calf. He lets out a growl as his hips rut down into the mattress, and Chloe can’t bring herself to tell him to stop since technically he’s not touching himself. He still can’t come, but she can at least grant him this small concession.

Chloe pushes the fake baton more firmly inside and starts moving it back and forth slowly, the object disappearing in her a bit more every time it goes back in. It’s too soon and she hisses at first, but it’s worth it, because Lucifer’s eyes are hypnotized by it: he’s a man who ran out of water in the desert and she’s drinking a few inches from him, a cruelty she didn’t know she had in her. And the more she drinks, the more she likes it, the more frantic Lucifer’s hips become.

"Detective, this would be considered torturing a prisoner" he whispers hoarsely against her leg, the dark locks that fell over his forehead moving to the rhythm of Chloe’s hand between her legs. “You might get in trouble with your superiors for this.”

"Mmm, you might be right" Chloe concedes, her eyes half-lidded, her determination clouded by the desire she feels for him, because this is good and all but not even remotely comparable to Lucifer filling her, taking her, completing her. She can still prolong her revenge with him sheathed inside, after all. It can still work.

"Lie down on your back" she tells him, easing out the baton with a sigh before discarding it on the bed. Lucifer complies without saying a word, lying down next to her with his head on the pillow. Chloe lifts his joined hands from where Lucifer keeps them on the front of his boxers, cupping himself lightly, and moves them above his head.

"This time, it’s me you can’t touch" she instructs, now scooting down his body to drag his boxers down his legs and on the floor. She almost keens at the sight of his obvious lust for her, but is distracted by Lucifer’s groan of relief, which quickly turns to exasperation.

"Ugh, you’ll be the death of me, Detective" he complains, but still looks eager and grateful when Chloe gets close again to straddle him, her skirt hiding the point where their bodies connect. His fingers flex and his arms contract with the urge to grab her by the hips and push her down, hold her firmly in place and thrust up inside. His body is tense like a bowstring about to snap.

"Oh, we both know you can take it" Chloe replies, grabbing him under the skirt for a moment to steady herself and sink down around him.

"_Yes_” Lucifer sighs, his head falling back tiredly on the pillow, his eyes closed. “Oh, _yes_.”

It’s Heaven, as always; the thought deliciously and sinfully blasphemous in Chloe’s mind. Her inner muscles spasm involuntarily at the feeling, her hands resting on Lucifer’s chest for leverage, but she still won’t move for a bit, content at the sensation of Lucifer firm and hot inside. Of course it’s not enough for _him_: he’s squirming, his hips almost imperceptibly pushing upwards, fighting against the weight of Chloe pressing them down. Again, of course he could do whatever he wanted in theory, but he’s clearly letting her vent in the way she decided was best, hoping it will melt her anger away.

And well, it’s melting alright, flowing out of her body together with her moans and whimpers as she starts to move, bent forward on top of Lucifer’s chest so she can rub her center against him. He needs more, needs her to rock up and down more deliberately to feel it, and she will, at some point. For now, all Lucifer can do is stay still under Chloe with his hands cuffed above his head, his tousled black locks fusing with the dark color of the pillowcase as he stretches his neck backwards, eyes squeezed shut as he groans his impatience and pent-up desire.

But Lucifer, being Lucifer, can’t really stay idle for long. He decides to take action and coax her into giving him what he wants, so when Chloe bends forward a bit more, balancing herself on the muscles of his arms, he captures one of her nipples in his mouth and sucks, the unexpected gesture eliciting a loud moan from her.

"I- I said you can’t touch me" she stutters – wait, why is she telling him to stop, again?

"I’m not using my hands, am I?” Lucifer mumbles in a haste as his mouth trails wet kisses from one breast to the other, before lapping at the other nipple. His hips push up into her now, taking advantage of her weakness as she grips his arms tightly and throws her head back, the cop hat falling off once and for all, her hair springing free.

"You always manage to find a loophole, don’t you?” Chloe scolds him, but she’s slowly forgetting why she was mad at him in the first place, lulled into submission by the pressure of his mouth on her breast and his thrusts deep inside. She distantly realizes he has placed his feet flat on the bed to get leverage, and when he scoots down under her to push upwards at a different, perfect angle, Chloe knows the war is lost.

She yanks Lucifer’s head away from her chest and kisses him messily, all tongue and teeth as they moan into each other’s mouths, rocking together now instead of fighting for dominance. With a force of will that seems impossible in the moment, Chloe reaches down to get the handcuffs' key from the side pocket of her skirt and then up to frantically free Lucifer’s wrists; she knows she doesn’t need to tell him that he can do what he wants now, that the charade is over, because the action itself speaks plenty.

The speed with which Lucifer sits up to wrap her in his arms has to be another of his superhuman traits. He lets out a growl as he takes over, one hand squeezing one of her breasts as the other tangles in Chloe’s hair, his mouth insistent and demanding as it captures her lips and muffles her moans.

"You’re mine now, Detective Decker" he whispers in her ear with a dark, devilish chuckle, before flipping them over and pushing Chloe into the mattress. It’s his turn to take her hands and pin them above her head, smirking down at her as he thrusts as deep as he can go, deeper than he could with Chloe straddling him. Her mouth opens in a silent ‘O', a wave of pleasure impossible to put into words.

"Am I free to go?” Lucifer asks, nuzzling and biting at her neck as the pressure inside Chloe steadily uncoils and increases toward completion. “Am I forgiven?”

It costs her to say it and officially surrender, because maybe she could have been harsher, but she did wipe that smug smirk off his face for a bit and she supposes there is only so far she can push him and herself before these silly games become too much to bear, before their bodies crave each other so desperately that even their minds can’t will them to keep away.

"_Yes_” she sighs, answering his question and encouraging his movements at the same time. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Lucifer lets go of her wrists to let her wrap her arms around him, melting into her completely. They kiss and kiss and kiss until their lips feel raw and pulsing, Chloe’s nails leaving indentations in the skin of Lucifer’s back as she holds on. Theirs is a primal desire she has never felt before, animalistic lust sweetened by a kind of love she didn’t know could exist, and yes, she _was_ mad and hurt and jealous, but at the end of the day, she is the Devil's first love. What does she have to worry about?

And somehow, Lucifer doesn’t need his power to know what she’s thinking.

"There is only you, Chloe" he tells her, a sweet promise whispered in her ear. “There’s only ever been you.”

It’s all she needs to tumble over the edge and take him with her, letting go of her anger and insecurities as they come together. It lasts for a long time, for both of them, as Chloe vents her emotions and Lucifer releases the bottled-up frustration she has forced him to keep in. His face is buried in the crook of her neck as he shudders, Chloe’s hand gripping his hair as she pants against his cheek. They stay this way, frozen in time, then slowly relax in each other’s embrace.

After a delicate peck on the lips, Lucifer pulls out and straightens the skirt back over her. He lies down on top of Chloe, his head on her stomach, peering up at her from under soft, dark eyelashes with an innocent look that should be impossible to pull off for him, yet suits him as if he was born yesterday. Chloe reaches down to stroke his messy hair, pushing them off his sweaty forehead. Lucifer stares at her in silence, but only for a moment.

"I just wanted to say, I didn’t leave it there on purpose" he ventures hesitantly. “I didn’t know she left it behind, and I'm sorry it upset you this much. Although I must admit, your reaction took a rather... _unexpected_ turn.”

His eyebrows wriggle seductively, his gaze roaming over the open shirt of her fake cop uniform. Chloe didn’t plan for him to be this amused, but it’s actually a nice feeling.

"I don’t know why I got this mad" she admits a bit shyly, playing with a loose strand of his hair, twirling it around one finger. “It wasn’t the thing itself, I guess. It was what it stands for.”

Lucifer shakes his head minutely, then gives her a smile that he reserves only to her.

"My silly Detective" he chuckles, settling higher on top of her so they’re chest to chest now. He kisses her again, slow and comforting, before a thought seems to sneak out of his mouth.

"So,” he starts, a short little word that always promises trouble when he’s the one saying it, “when is it _my_ turn to wear a _me_ costume? You know, the character people associate me with for reasons I couldn’t _possibly_ fathom. With the tail and the pitchfork, red flowing cape, Devil horns and all that.”

Chloe shivers internally as a far away sex dream comes back to her mind. If that weird, creepy fantasy somehow managed to become a reality and find its way into their sex life, she knows it will ruin it for good, and she certainly can’t allow _that_.

"Just- just not the horns" she tells him, too embarrassed to explain the reason behind it. She kisses away Lucifer’s curious expression and hopes it will be enough.

_Please, never the horns._

**Author's Note:**

> In my head this started as a fun, light, smutty one-shot but then it decided it had a life of its own and feelings got involved in the mix. I still hoped you enjoyed it! Cheers ❤


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